


All Bets Are Off

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Casino Royale (2006)
Genre: AU now, M/M, Written before Quantum of Solace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Casino Royale. Bond is being a pain, as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in the fandom, a long long time ago :)
> 
> Beta'd by silentflux.

John Villiers watched his boss carefully, trying to gauge her mood. M didn’t pace, she never did, but she radiated tension – and he knew why. It was part of his job, after all. Making a quick note to field any incoming calls, he dropped a couple of mission reports on her desk.

“004 is back from Hungary. He was able to secure all the necessary documents,” he informed her. “They were handed over to Research this morning. And 003 made contact last night – everything is going smoothly.”

M nodded curtly and Villiers was about to retreat to his own desk when her voice called him back.

“Any news from Bond?”

He shook his head. “His plane was due to arrive at Heathrow 30 minutes ago. With the traffic he probably won’t be here for another hour.”

“Good, good.”

He nodded back and left, having gotten all the confirmation he needed. Bond was coming back from Venice today, less than two days after the… situation… with Le Chiffre and Lynd had been resolved – most unpleasantly too.

As a matter of fact, M wasn’t the only one anticipating Bond’s return. The man had always been arrogant and hotheaded, doing as he wished with no consideration for the consequences, and while as an administrative Villiers couldn’t condone his methods, he had to admire his results. He pondered how the death of his lover had affected him. Bond was a dangerous man under the best of circumstances – they couldn’t afford to have a 00 out of control.

Not that they had ever managed to control Bond in the first place. Maybe he _had_ been promoted too early.

But there was work to be done, and Villiers couldn’t afford to dwell with his fascination for Bond just now. And it was something of a fascination – or attraction at the very least, but then again, who wouldn’t be?

Being a gay man inside the very powerful – and masculine – MI6 had never been easy. So he had kept quiet, although he was sure his superiors knew about his preferences – hell, it was probably in his file. They didn’t seem to mind though, or at least had decided he was the best for the job and tolerated him as such. Ironically enough, he wondered sometimes if that wasn’t why M had hired him in the first place.

Oh, he was more than qualified for the job, despite the fact that he was young to be in such a position of authority. Of that he had no doubt because he knew M. He wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t good enough. Still…

Engrossing himself into his work, he was halfway through a report from Afghanistan when he was informed Bond was there.

“Send him in,” he said and relayed the message to M.

Surprisingly – or not – Bond didn’t look any different. He strolled in like he owned the place, looked at Villiers inquiringly and at his nod went into M’s office – without knocking.

Villiers frowned at the brief encounter. Although nothing had seemed out of place, something felt off. Maybe it was the lack of emotions on Bond’s face. He looked harder than he had a month ago, with no teasing glitter or pleased smirk to soften his sharp features.

Well, he figured it was only natural.

Having lost all interest in the report he stretched and waited ‘til Bond reappeared. It didn’t take long. And unsurprisingly he didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked down right pissed. M must have announced her intentions to keep him home-bound until he had undergone a psychological evaluation. John could sympathize. MI6’s shrinks were definitely not fun to deal with. But it was probably the lack of action that was annoying Bond so much.

But it was M’s decision, and what M wanted M got.

It was part of John’s job to ensure she did.

\---

That was why a couple months later he found himself hunting Bond down. The man had conveniently forgotten – yet again – about his appointment with Dr. Quint. John didn’t understand the man. If it was his way to piss M off, he had lost his touch. It wasn’t working. It was, however, starting to annoy John. It was the fourth time in as many weeks he had had to track Bond down, and it was never easy. It kept him away from his job – and no amount of handsomeness was worth _that_.

He finally found him – at the firing range this time. Bond was shooting round after round with deadly accuracy, and John waited ‘til he had finished his clip to interrupt – he wouldn’t want to chance getting shot by ‘mistake’.

“Bond, you’ve missed your appointment with Dr. Quint _again_ ,” he said, trying hard not to sound as aggravated as he was feeling.

“Well, look who’s here! M’s secretary,” Bond said cheerfully, a – by now – familiar glint appearing in his eyes.

John gritted his teeth. He knew Bond was doing it on purpose to annoy him, but damn him it was working.

“Look,” John articulated carefully, like he always did when he was trying to reign in his temper, “you won’t get back in the field until you’ve seen Dr. Quint. That’s not up to discussion. So just _go_.”

Bond ignored him, picking a fresh clip for his gun. It clicked into place and Bond turned back towards him.

“Tell you what. You hit the centre of that target and I’ll go to your appointment. How is that?”

The look on his face told John everything he needed to know about what Bond thought of his abilities.

“You’ll go if I hit the target?” he asked doubtfully.

“Sure!”

Raising an eyebrow at him, he took the proffered weapon and calmly emptied it into the target. Dead centre. Ignoring the look of disbelief on Bond’s face, he politely handed him back the gun and shoved a post-it at him.

“Here is your new appointment. Don’t be late.”

Turning on heel he left, only allowing himself to smile when he was back at his desk. M shot him an approving look and went back to her office. It was done.

It had been fun.

\---

Bond did go to his appointment after that, and was soon back on the roster. For the next few months, he was rarely in England and would breeze in between missions. He made it a point of honour to annoy John as much as he could whenever he was there – and was quite successful at it too, although more often than not John found it rather amusing and, God help him, charming.

He was doomed.

\---

After nearly 6 months of back-to-back missions and two near screw-ups, M got fed up with 007 again and forced him to take some downtime.

That evening, as he was looking forward to going back to his apartment, John found Bond leaning against his car in the underground parking lot.

“You know,” Bond told him casually, “there are very interesting things in your file.”

John tensed, growing cold and then hot in a very quick succession. Bond went on like he was talking about the weather.

“Cambridge, right? Impressive. Must have been after my time.”

John’s eyes narrowed as he desperately tried to get his mind back into the game. What the hell did Bond think he was doing? He was just preparing to retaliate when Bond opened his mouth again.

“So, wanna go for a drink?”

John could only stare at him stupidly, wondering if he had heard correctly. Probably not. It had sounded like Bond had just asked him out. Which was stupid, really.

“Excuse me?” he finally managed to get out.

“You, me, a drink?” Bond said more slowly this time, making exaggerating hand movements to help out with his comprehension.

“You want to have a drink with me,” John repeated, still trying to figure out the trick. But Bond only nodded. “And you’ve read my file,” he continued, not letting go of his distrust just yet. After all, who knew what Bond had in mind? Well, apart from the obvious. “Why?”

His brain had already come up with a dozen – plausible – reasons, none of them more pleasant than the others. Had Bond decided to teach him a lesson? No, he didn’t think so. Was he trying to find a way to get something on M? Unlikely – he was only her aide, after all. And while she might listen to his opinions, he had no leverage there.

Bond’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I thought we could have some fun.”

Fun. Right. They definitely weren’t on the same page here. He had to say no. 

Which is why he found himself acquiescing, much to his horror. Bond’s face lit up with a roguish smile. 

“Good! I’ll meet you at your place – I know where you live.” He smirked and vanished, leaving John to try and make sense of this new development. 

Minutes later, he found himself in the relative safety of his car, definitely _not_ speeding. This was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done, John reflected as he drove home. Sleeping with a 00. With Bond, no less. But then again, he couldn’t deny he wanted it, and unfortunately for him, he had never been good at poker.

Bond was.

It was no surprise to find Bond waiting for him – in his apartment, no less. He ignored the fact that the man had just broken into his place and fixed them drinks.

As soon as Bond – who he probably should start referring to as James, given the circumstances – tossed his back, he pulled John to him and kissed him hard. It wasn’t long before his hands were busy exploring and getting rid of the barriers between them. John moaned. Bond – James – really was an expert at this. Not surprising, considering the number of his conquests. That he seemed as experienced with men was new though.

“Bedroom,” a breathy whisper pulled him away from his thoughts and he led the way.

\---

Predictably, he found himself alone the next morning, and spent the next day berating himself. What exactly had he thought he was doing? He _knew_ Bond, knew his track record with women. He used them and left them, the only exception to that rule being Lynd and she was dead now. No reason to believe he was any different with men. And now John had gone and done it. Only, he realized now, he had been gone for a long time.

God damn it, he was in love with Bond.

\---

Fortunately the man was sent on a mission a couple of days later and John didn’t see him until a month had passed. He had time to think on what had happened and came to the conclusion that he had just been convenient to Bond. After all, the ‘love of his life’ had betrayed his trust, and knowing Bond, he had probably sworn never to put himself into that position ever again. John, on the other hand, was easy. And one of the least likely to betray him – with the exception of M, but that thought was too disturbing to contemplate.

Oh, Bond probably found him attractive – he wasn’t that much of a masochist – but he had never intended for it to go any farther than a quick fuck. John had been privy to his sexcapades with his mark’s wife on his latest job.

But it was alright. He would get over it – over him. It was just a question of time.

\---

What he hadn’t expected was for Bond to seek him out again.

And for himself to say yes.

\---

And so it went on – despite John’s repeated self-assurances that it was the last time. But he couldn’t seem to be able to say no to the man.

Bond would come back from a mission and ask him if he had plans for the evening. Of course, John never had. They would meet at his apartment – John had no idea where Bond lived – and fuck. And James would leave, and John would wonder yet again what he was doing. Oh, the sex was undeniably good – and God knew it was the only that John was getting with his work schedule – but it wasn’t what he wished for, and it certainly wasn’t helping him get over Bond.

He figured that in Bond’s book they were something like ‘fuck buddies’, though he disliked the term. Anyone else would probably have been happy with the ‘position’, but he wasn’t. It had been almost a year now since their first encounter, and there could be weeks or months between two of their ‘meetings’. John always knew perfectly what Bond had been up to in between. The perk of the job. To make matters worse, he had caught M’s speculative and somewhat worried gaze on him more than once and admonished himself to be more careful. It was easier than to admit what was going on.

James was back from his latest mission, his ego still infused with the reminder of a job well done when he next approached him.

“Tonight?” he asked nonchalantly as he paused in front of his desk on his way out from his debriefing with M.

John didn’t take his eyes off his computer. “I can’t.”

The sudden stillness of the body next to him made him look up. James’s face was carefully blank – but then again, it usually was these days – but his eyes were narrowed. It was the first time he had said no to him – and he did have plans already, dinner with his parents – and maybe that was what had thrown Bond off. He recovered soon enough though, shrugging it off like it was nothing, but there was enough in the exchange to make John feel secretly pleased.

Still, nothing to get worked up over. He watched James swagger out of the room and ignored the almost ever-present twist in his chest. There was work to be done.

\---

James Bond was in a bad mood and he didn’t understand why. Sure, he had been looking forward to this but there were other asses in London. Why should he care so much that Villiers had turned him down? Pacing back and forth in his apartment he wondered when exactly the man had become so important to him, so _needed_. When John had slipped under his walls, despite the fact he had sworn to himself he would never let that happen again.

In the end he gave up and headed for Villiers’s apartment. It was no hardship to break in – that made him angry for some reason, Villiers should know better! – and he silently made his way towards the bedroom. The apartment was dark and empty, and he thought maybe John hadn’t come home yet. It was close to 2am and his brain was more than willing to offer a dozen scenarios, from ‘still at work’ to ‘hurt’ to ‘in someone else’s bed’ and the red-hot jealousy at that last possibility made his head spin. _‘Mine!’_ his mind was screaming, and no matter how hard he tried to shut it up or ignore it, he couldn’t.

But then he saw John’s briefcase lying in its usual place and the relief that flooded him made him feel ashamed – a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to and one he decided he didn’t like. He had no claim on the man, despite what the more primal part of himself kept insisting, and only had himself to blame for that. John was free to sleep with whomever he wanted – just like James did – but the thought was driving him insane. And he wanted to grab John, pin him on the nearest surface and fuck him just so that the other man would know whom he belonged to.

Shaking his head to dislodge that picture, he reached the bedroom, the path familiar even in the dark. And paused. John had forgotten to close the blinds, or maybe he never did. Maybe he liked waking up with the sun on his face – James realized he didn’t know. He studied the man in front of him like he would a stranger. John looked younger – too young – and relaxed in slumber, the lines of stress that came with their line of work and usually adorned his face were absent for once. 

It was a foreign sight and for a brief second James wondered why. Then he remembered that he always left as soon as they were done. Because he didn’t want to become too involved with anyone, not after Vesper. He had learned his lesson. Fuck them and leave them, that was his motto. Except it worked fine with the women, but never had with John. For some reason, he just kept coming back. He didn’t understand. Yes, the man was attractive and somewhat amusing. It had seemed perfect at first. James had wanted nothing to do with women after Vesper and he had foolishly thought he had found the perfect solution. A way to unwind, no harm no foul. John wouldn’t betray him, since there were no feelings involved. Except he was starting to realize it wasn’t that simple.

So he watched him and fought to urge to crawl into bed with him and hold him and fuck him when he would wake.

And since he was James Bond and had never been a coward – nor very good at resisting his urges – in the end he gave in and shed his clothes quietly. A newly found resolve was animating him, although he wasn’t yet sure what it was exactly. He wasn’t even sure it was such a good thing either, but it was something he wanted, needed.

The bed dipped when he sat down and John woke up with a start.

“Wha…” he started, blinking away the sleep from his eyes, and reached for his night table when he realized there was someone next to him.

Knowing what the man could do with a gun and guessing that was what he was reaching for, James stopped him with a quiet, “It’s me.”

“Bond? What are you doing here?” John asked, his befuddled brain trying to make sense of the situation. The alarm clock read 2.16 and that was way too early – or late – for a social call. Then he realized James was naked and looking at him intently, and he did his best not to blush. Oh.

James reached for him, his hand moving carefully over his face, and John had to fight not to lean in the touch. It was a fight he was bound to lose, however, and he did, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“What have I been doing to you?” James wondered out loud and John unwillingly tensed, knowing only too well the answer to that question. Soft lips against his own saved him from the burden of answering. There was something unfamiliar about them, a gentleness usually absent during their encounters and it made his heart hurt.

James pushed him back down on the bed and made short work of his T-shirt and boxer. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and John didn’t even try to keep track of what his hands were doing, surrendering to the moment.

James was taking his time, enjoying the feel of John’s skin under his hands. God, he had been so stupid to deny himself this. He would have to apologize too, in that oblique way of his, because he had hurt John. John who probably thought he hid everything so well but he had always been an open book to James. Still, there was the niggling doubt that John was a better player than he was, and would betray him too if he let him in. But he was already in. He could just take the chance, bet on him – the odds were in his favour.

Shutting up the voices in his head for now, he reached for the lube and prepared his lover quickly. He had to stop him from turning on his stomach and the surprise on John’s face told him everything he had to know – he never looked at him when they fucked. Except they weren’t fucking this time. After a quick kiss of reassurance he positioned himself and pushed in. And oh yeah, that was just what he needed. So fucking good. And the position… he could see the myriad of emotions on John’s face as he breached him, the brief wince of pain and the whimper that escaped him before he bit his lower lip. He realized now John had probably always buried whatever noises he had been making in his pillow, and he didn’t want that now. No, he wanted everything. So he slid all the way in, bending his lover in two and loving how he had him pinned underneath him. Loving the way John’s eyes widened and his breath hitched.

He started to move slow and easy at first, enjoying the noises that were spilling unaltered from John’s mouth, until the need to possess and own grew too strong to fight and he pounded into the willing body, staring at his face intently as it contorted in pleasure. John wailed at a particularly harsh thrust and James felt it all the way to his bones and moaned – he should have done this sooner, much sooner. 

“Mine, you’re mine, you hear me? Mine mine mine,” he grunted with each thrust until he couldn’t talk anymore – or maybe he still was, he didn’t know. John was still agreeing so that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

As his orgasm grew nearer he tried to slow down, tried to make it last but he couldn’t. It was all too much, the noises John was making, the sight of him, and when John came with something vaguely resembling his name on his lips, his body arching against James’s broader one, he finally lost it and poured himself into the other man’s body with a violence that scared him.

And he knew right then with a sudden clarity that it was too late for him. He would kill for this man, die for him and keep him close always.

And God helped those who tried to hurt him.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
